Spontaneous Propagation
by greengrass1914
Summary: Morgana Dyl had no interest in starting a relationship with anyone, least of all a local farm boy in the military. But the Force had other plans. PreKotor oneshot.


"_This_ is the bar you were telling me about?" Morgana Dyl looked around at the clean gray walls and neutral plasteel furnishings of the cantina near the Fleet base. "It has all the atmosphere of an office building!"

"Oh, hush up and sit down," Savane said, pulling out a stool at a high table and perching herself upon it. "I know it's not Coruscant, but it's the best we're going to get on this backwater colony." Morgana would have preferred to spend the night getting to know the new graduate students back at camp, but it was Savane's turn to choose the destination for their weekend outing, and she had a thing about military men.

The waiter, an older human, came by and leaned on the table. "Hiya, ladies. Haven't seen you in here before. Just stationed to Telos?"

Savane twisted her golden braids around her hand and gave the man a glowing smile. Morgana hid her smirk behind her hand—her friend had never failed to get them at least one round of free drinks. "No, we're graduate students from the University on Coruscant. Ana's a botanist—you know, plants, fungi, algae. I'm a sociologist—people, places, social interaction."

"Oh, yeah? Well, then you're both in the right place. The local beer is hifa-based and there's plenty of social interaction to be—er, studied, especially when it gets closer to curfew." He grinned at them both. "What'll it be? First round's on the house, and then I don't think you'll have any trouble finding someone to buy for you. The hifa beer is pretty good."

"Corellian whiskey, if you have it. Rocks," Morgana ordered. She ate and studied enough hifa at camp without wanting to drink it, too.

Savane winked at the waiter. "Don't mind her, she's a bit of a Core World snob. I'll have the local beer."

Morgana sipped her whiskey when it arrived and looked around. The place was starting to fill up with young military officers. They sat in groups of three or four and put back copious amounts of beer.

Savane nudged her. "Hey, that one on the end is checking you out."

"Where?" she looked in the direction of Savane's gaze. A young man was eyeing her over the top of his beer glass. He was wearing the same red coat as the other officers, the top several buttons undone to show the black undershirt. His hair looked almost too long for the military, the front couple of pieces flopping onto his forehead. He was sitting with a group of young men who seemed to be finding great humor in a story one of them was telling. "Hey, he's pretty cute," she said to Savane.

Savane gasped dramatically. "My gods! Ana thinks a man is handsome and he doesn't even have a graduate degree! Where's my holocorder?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "Come off it. You wouldn't give that guy two seconds of your time."

"Well, sure, he's what, twenty-one? Twenty-two? A man our age can barely afford the beer he's drinking. Now _that_ one," she indicated the opposite direction at a well-built man in his thirties, "can afford the good stuff." She drained her beer and flipped her braids over her shoulder. "See you later, Ana dear."

Amused, Morgana watched Savane sidle up to the bar near her target and start a conversation. It never failed—going out with Savane always lasted just long enough for the blonde to attract someone's attention.

"Hi, there, sunshine." Morgana looked up to see the cute young officer standing at her table. He indicated Savane's chair. "Mind if I sit down?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you always give nicknames to women you've just met?"

He grinned and pulled out the chair Savane had just vacated. "See? Now you have no choice but to give me your real name." He held out his hand. "Lieutenant Carth Onasi."

He had the flat accent of the local population. Morgana was hoping to run into someone a little more cultured than a local farm boy in the military. Still, he was awfully good looking, with his light brown eyes and charming smile. She shook his hand. "I'm Morgana Dyl, but my friends call me Ana. _You_ can call me Morgana, flyboy."

His smile broadened. "Well, Morgana, now I have no choice but to convince you to let me call you Ana. What are you doing on a backwater colony like Telos?"

She swirled the last of the whiskey in her glass and eyed him appraisingly. "I'm studying the genetic drift of uncultivated hifa into the farmed strains to determine whether the L17 propagation is also spontaneous, and if so, if it can be predicted and controlled." She had a running bet with Savane that military men, while cute, could always be intimidated by smart women. She braced herself for a polite smile and quick exit—she hadn't met a spacer yet who was remotely interested in botany.

Carth took a contemplative swig of beer. "Well, is it?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Is the propagation spontaneous?"

She looked at him closely, sure he was mocking her. But there was no trace of anything on his face except genuine interest. A slow smile spread across her lips. "Well, you see, the genetic drift—"

She wasn't sure how long they spent there, talking about hifa and Telos and everything under the sun, but at some point he suggested they get some air, and at some point after that, she suggested they look at a nearby hifa field, and at some point after that, he was kissing her in between the tall plants, and at some point after that, she found herself tangled in his arms on the still-warm soil, half-asleep and smiling with pleasure. When it finally ocurred to her to check her chrono, she saw with horror that it was only two hours until dawn.

She sat up and felt around in the dark for her shirt. Carth rolled onto an elbow and ran a hand through his hair. "What's wrong, sunshine?"

She yanked the dew-damp fabric over her head and twisted her skirt around to the proper position. "I have to be at a field lecture in three hours. It'll take me two to get back to the camp, and that's assuming Savane didn't call out the TSF when I didn't come home last night." She got to her feet and found her sandals. By now, Carth had rearranged his own clothing.

"I'll take you back to your camp in one of the base speeders," he offered.

"No, I have a speeder. It was nice meeting you, Carth." It had been fun, but she didn't have the slightest interest in being involved with anyone, certainly not a local soldier. She started back toward the base.

"Hey, Morgana—" Carth called after her. She turned around reluctantly and saw him looking at her with that charming smile on his face. "Can I see you next time I'm on-planet?"

In all likelihood, her research would be done before he came back, and she'd never see him again. No awkward attachments. "Sure, why not? Maybe by then I'll know whether the propagation is spontaneous. Just come by the University camp and ask for Ana." She tossed a grin in his direction and ran for her speeder.

She'd have to tell Savane that she'd lost her own bet.

* * *

"You're what?" Savane gasped.

"You heard me," Morgana mumbled, staring miserably at the medical datapad. _20 mg HCG detected. Diagnosis: Pregnant_.

"But when? You've been as celibate as a Jedi for the last three months! I mean, we haven't even been out since—oh, gods, it was that soldier, wasn't it? The one who's been writing you?"

"Lieutenant Onasi," she confirmed. She had thought they were both telling pleasant lies when they'd parted in the hifa field—so long, it was fun, see ya around. But a week later, she'd received a message from him on her University account. It was text only—hyperspace holos were almost as expensive as realtime communication. It wasn't anything profound, just a short note that he'd enjoyed meeting her and wondered if she'd mind if he wrote her now and then.

She'd been flattered, of course, and agreed against her better judgment. Once a week notes became daily letters, and she found herself actually hoping she'd get to see him again sometime. He wasn't an academic, but he was smart and funny and actually seemed to care about her work. It was, frankly, a nice change from the grads at the camp, most of whom would stab her in the back given the slightest opportunity. But pregnant—that wasn't even an option.

Savane was waving her hand in front of her face. "Hello? Base to Ana? Did you hear me?"

Morgana blinked. "What? No, I didn't."

"I said, I knew I should have made you get your innocs when I got mine this year. You get all tied up with your work and forget about everything else. Look, I'm busy running data all this week, but I can take you to town to have it done on the weekend. Is that okay?"

"To have what done?" Morgana asked.

Savane frowned. "I mean, you're not going to have it, are you?"

The meaning of her words struck her like a physical blow. Morgana rubbed her still-flat belly. "Um, no, I mean, of course you're right. This weekend is fine, thanks." She smiled quickly at her friend and walked out of their small apartment.

The week blew by in a fog. Morgana kept reading the diagnosis on the datapad as though it would change if she looked enough. By the end of the week, she was mad at herself for being in such a stupid, irresponsible position. It wasn't like her. But then, she thought, Carth Onasi wasn't like most men she knew.

She hadn't told him, even though she was still writing him every day. She didn't know what kind of moral hangups they had on Telos and she didn't want him filing some sort of injunction to keep her from going to the medic on the weekend. She tried not writing him at all, but she still found herself sitting at her terminal every night, reading his letter, writing one of her own. She felt guilty, of course, but what choice did she have? She wasn't remotely ready for a baby.

Savane was waiting for her when she woke up on the weekend. They didn't say anything as they got into a camp speeder and started toward town. Morgana watched the rolling plains fly by and tried not to think about what she was going to do. It would be over quickly and then she could get back to her work.

She looked down and saw that her hand was splayed protectively over her belly again. She sighed, thinking about what was behind it. Three months—it would be big enough to see, wouldn't it? She stared at her hand as though she could see through it, down to—

A spark, like a light behind her eyes. Morgana gasped, causing Savane to look at her sharply.

"What?" her friend asked. "What's wrong?"

Morgana didn't answer, feeling—almost seeing—the connection between herself and her baby. It was a boy, she knew that for sure. It didn't have thoughts, but she could feel, somehow, that it was there.

"Stop," she said. "Stop the speeder." She didn't know what she'd done—she wasn't a Jedi, after all—but she knew she couldn't go to the medic now.

Savane stared at her like she'd lost her mind, but she brought the speeder to a halt. "What's going on?"

Morgana smiled at her, feeling the dread she'd carried all week lift like morning mist from her hifa fields. "Let's go back to camp. I'm going to need to order some new things."

* * *

Carth slid the fighter smoothly into the docking bay and quickly ran through all of the post-flight inspection checks. Another day of routine skirmish drills—the brass was trying to relieve the boredom of the Outer Rim patrols by letting the pilots dogfight each other, but everyone was getting frustrated for want of action. Some days, Carth half-hoped they'd be attacked by a new enemy just so he'd have something think about besides his next letter to Morgana Dyl.

He swung out of the cockpit and handed off the inspection datapad to the mechanic who maintained the fighters. He pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm to head back to the equipment bay. Carth had only intended to have a quick roll in the hifa with Ana and then never see or think of her again—he had just been in port for the week, after all, and she would probably be gone by the time he got back to Telos. But now it seemed like everything reminded him of her—he'd hear a laugh, or catch a glimpse of dark curly hair, and think she was there. His friends had decided he'd lost his mind.

"Daydreaming about the Coruscanti girl again, Onasi?" Jordo walked up beside him and punched him in the arm. He laughed and said in a stage whisper to the rest of their squad, "I think the man's in love."

Borent grinned and shook his ringed hand at both of them. "It's not so bad, boys. And I saw her at the bar—she's pretty hot for an academic type. Better watch out, though, Onasi—those Coruscanti wedding earrings are expensive as all hell."

Carth shook his head good-naturedly. "You guys are idiots. But since you think I have such a major purchase ahead of me, I guess you can buy the beer, Bor."

"Onasi," a voice called from the equipment room. Carth looked ahead to see Commander Karath waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest.

Carth saluted. "Yes, sir."

Karath nodded his head toward the comm room. "You have a priority live message waiting for you on channel forty-two."

No one Carth knew could afford to send a live comm message. "Live? Who would—"

"It's on the University system account, but that doesn't mean there's credits to burn by you asking pointless questions. Take the call and make it quick, Onasi."

"Sir, yes, sir." Carth tossed his helmet to Jordo and jogged into the comm room. An indicator light was flashing on channel forty-two. He flipped the accept and was surprised to see Morgana Dyl in front of him. She was sitting at a desk, her hair falling forward over her shoulders. He stared, wondering for what possible reason she would be contacting him on a live message.

She smiled. "Nice to see you in person again, flyboy." Carth was dazzled by that smile. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful than she had six months ago on Telos.

He ran a self-conscious hand through his helmet-sweaty hair. "Uh, hey, sunshine. What's up?"

She looked suddenly nervous. "Well, I'll make this quick. You know when you were here, we, um, you know, in the hifa? Well, I—I'm pregnant, Carth."

Carth just blinked stupidly at her. "You're what?"

"Why does everyone say that? Yes, I'm pregnant. Twenty-nine standard weeks pregnant, to be exact. It's a boy, and he's yours."

Carth dropped slowly into the chair at the comm. His head was spinning with a thousand thoughts—how could he have been so stupid as to miss his last round of innocs? Why didn't she have hers? What was he going to do now? But what actually came out of his mouth was, "What's your father's personal comm frequency?"

She frowned. "My parents are dead, they died in a speeder accident years ago—why would you want to know that?"

"Well, I need to ask him for permission to marry you."

"Marry me?" she gaped at him. "I'm not expecting—that's not why—I don't want to marry you!"

"But you—"

Ana stood, and Carth saw for the first time her distended belly. He couldn't stop staring, but finally jerked his eyes up and was surprised at the anger on her face. "I'm not some kind of predator—I'm not asking for your help or your credits. We don't even know each other, for the gods' sake!" A chime sounded on the transmission. "I have to go. I'm not allowed to travel by hyperspace anymore, so I'll be on Telos until—well, until then." Her voice softened and she shrugged. "I just thought you should know, that's all." She hit the disconnect.

Carth stared at the static for a long time before he got to his feet and started slowly out the door. He didn't even see Karath until the man put out a hand to stop him. "The Fleet expects you to do the right thing, Carth, but if she doesn't want you to, then you're off the hook. I'd get it in writing, if I were you."

Carth laughed weakly. "I'm not—I mean, I'd marry her, Saul. I—I love her." He had been surprised to realize it, but it was true. He'd known as soon as he saw her face on the transmission, and to be honest, he'd known as soon as he'd seen her in the cantina on Telos.

Karath raised his eyebrows. "Then I guess you'd better put in for shore leave."

* * *

Morgana ducked into the field tent to escape the light shower that was threatening to become a major downpour. She'd been on Telos almost a year now, and she had to admit that the little farm planet was growing on her, volatile weather, lack of social life, and all. She'd had no idea when she started her dissertation research that hifa was such a complex plant, so connected to the planet's ecosystem. There was no doubt that she could spend her career here, if she wanted to.

She sighed and watched the small raindrops turn into giant waterbombs that left indentions in the dirt. That was the question, of course. Her adviser on Corellia was pressing her to take the head research position here on Telos—a wonderful opportunity, he said, one few botanists got so early in their careers. He was right, of course, and there were certainly worse places to raise her child. But staying on Telos meant a strong likelihood she would see a dashing young pilot more often than she trusted herself to want.

She still couldn't believe that he'd thought she wanted him to marry her. Telos was more provincial than she had realized, or maybe they warned the young soldiers about women in the ports trying to get themselves a husband. Raising a child by herself wasn't what she had planned to do, but she'd be okay. She sent warm thoughts through the connection she had her baby and was rewarded by a powerful kick against her insides. She was nearly due, now, and she could feel his tiny presence strongly inside of her.

"Ana? Are you in there?" Savane called from a speeder in the field.

"Yeah, come in from the rain!" she called.

Savane dashed into the tent from her speeder, hands over her head to protect it from the heavy drops. "What are you doing out here by yourself?" Savane chided. "You're big enough to drop that thing any second!"

Morgana looked down at herself and groaned. "No kidding. I'm huge. But I have the medic on my comm quickcall, and I had to find out what the latest testing showed. I really want to finish the research before I have the baby, or else I'll have to wait until next summer." She waved a datapad. "But I downloaded the last tables, so I can look at it back at camp." She noticed that Savane wasn't listening to anything she was saying. "What? What is it?"

Savane tugged on her braids and looked at the ground. "I got that grant I applied for," she said.

"Well, that's great news!"

Savane looked up at her finally. "I have to leave tonight. I won't be here when—" she trailed off.

Morgana felt a hard cramp and tried to keep her sudden fear from showing. To be by herself when the baby came? She pushed down her feelings. She was being silly. There would be medics and nurse droids, and the whole camp was waiting for her to come back with the baby. She wouldn't be alone. But her hands were across her belly again.

Savane apologized all the way back to camp and Morgana pretended to reassure her. She'd be fine. She'd be fine.

"Hey, whose speeder is that?" Savane asked suddenly.

Morgana looked up and frowned. "That's Fleet issue, I think. But who would—" Then she saw who was standing awkwardly next to it. "Oh, my gods," she whispered.

"Is that who I think it is?" Savane asked. "Look, do you want me to get security? They can make him leave if you don't want—"

"No," she said distractedly, still looking at the man who had now noticed her. "But don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

She didn't hear Savane's response as she lumbered out of the speeder and walked over to Lieutenant Carth Onasi. He was in full uniform, hair still unruly. His eyes were full of hope. "Hey, flyboy," she said.

He reached his hands out to her, then pulled them back uncertainly. "Ana. You look—you look amazing."

She had to laugh at that in spite of another cramp running through her. "Amazingly huge, maybe. Come on, let's talk."

She led him into her small lab and settled herself uncomfortably on a stool. "Carth—" she started.

"Marry me, Ana," he blurted out. He opened his clenched hand and showed her the wedding earring in it. She stared at it in wonder for just a moment—it was beautiful, not too ornate, just thin bands of gold twined around each other. It was exactly what she would have picked out herself.

Then she got ahold of herself and shook her head. Now was not the time for childish fantasies. "No, Carth, I told you. We don't even know each other—if we got married for this baby, one day, you'd wake up and realize that you'd spent the last however many years trapped with a woman you didn't love, and then you'd leave. Or worse, you'd stay and hate us both. I don't want that, for either of us."

He clenched and unclenched his jaw. "I'm not asking you for the baby's sake. I love you, Ana."

And he did, she realized with a sudden start. But what he felt now had nothing to do with how he'd feel in twenty years. Or how she would. She sighed and looked away. "But I don't love you," she whispered.

He didn't say anything, and she couldn't bear to look at him. The silence stretched out too long, and she blurted out, "So, I'm not asking you for anything, no support or anything. I have the papers ready to sign that will release you—"

"You don't get to decide that for me!" he snapped. She looked up at him then, expecting to see anger, but seeing only a deep confusion and sadness. He shook his head and smiled without humor. "I thought if I came here, it would make a difference. But I guess I was wrong." He straightened. "I'll go, if that's what you want."

She started to answer, but it felt suddenly like lightning shot through her, leaving her gasping. She clutched her belly and—was that her voice whimpering? Carth's hands were supporting her.

"Ana! What's wrong?"

She felt her connection with her baby as she got her breath back. "He's coming!" she exclaimed.

"Who?" Carth stared at her for second. "Oh, gods, the baby? Now? What—what should I do?"

She might have smacked him if another contraction hadn't hit her first. "How about you fly me to the infirmary, flyboy?" she gasped.

They almost didn't get there in time, in spite of the fastest flying she had ever experienced in a speeder. Carth slid the vehicle right up to the door and picked her up while she was mewling through another contraction and couldn't protest. The nurse droid very nearly had to stun him and drag him out of the birthing room while the medic smiled indulgently.

Afterward, she didn't remember the pain, only the beautiful, beautiful lightness that came from her child as he was handed to her. She couldn't believe that everyone else in the room didn't see it. He was scrunched down in his blankets, tiny fingers clenched in a fist and held near his mouth. A shock of dark hair stuck out from under his infirmary-issue cap. "What's your name, little one?" she asked him.

"How about Dustil?" Carth asked quietly. She looked up and saw him staring at her with awe.

She cocked her head. Dustil was a Coruscanti name. "Welcome surprise?" she asked with a smile.

Carth held up her datapad. "If I'm reading this right, it looks like your hifa is spontaneously propagating." He grinned. "Kind of like him."

She smiled down at her child. "What do you think, Dustil?"

He yawned in response. Morgana laughed. "Good enough, I think." She looked up at Carth. "Do you want to hold him?"

Carth took the boy and held him gingerly, like he was afraid he might break him. The look on his face was of unrestrained joy. Morgana saw for just a second a flare of blue around the two of them, like an aura. A rush of memories that she'd never had came toward her—a small house, a toddler running away from his bath and giggling, Carth, older, walking through the door and spinning her around in his arms, and love, so much love that she felt she might burst.

Then the moment was gone, and she saw just a man holding his child, their child. She didn't know what she had seen, but the feeling was still there. Maybe it had always been there. Morgana felt tears running down her cheeks and she couldn't stop smiling.

"I love you, Carth," she said.

He looked up at her in surprise. "But you—"

"I was wrong," she said simply. "Is your offer still open?" She almost didn't dare to hope.

Carth sat carefully next to her on the bed, holding Dustil between them. "Forever, sunshine," he whispered. "Will you marry me, Ana?"

"Forever, flyboy."

**END**


End file.
